


break free from the voices in my head

by sarangx



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarangx/pseuds/sarangx
Summary: voices can be poison; they can form a monster. will you let it consume you, or will you fight it?





	break free from the voices in my head

**Author's Note:**

> twt: @ckyjh

 

Changbin hates himself more than he cares to admit.

All the jokes, every “bin-sual” tease, all the crooning at his muscles—every bit of it only adds fuel to the fire. Maybe he was coping at first, trying to make sense of his myriad of emotions via laughter and lighthearted playing; hiding in plain sight, really. But now it’s turned into a toxin that he can’t help but swallow. Everyone has learned his technique, but not the thinly veiled truth behind it, so of course they join in or even start the teasing.

“Our Changbin is the most handsome member!”

 “Wah~ look at our Changbinnie’s muscles!”

“Hyung is so strong and handsome!”

Every exclamation is another drop of poison, leaking from their mouths and dripping into Changbin’s ears where it makes a home inside of him. It stays, festers, turns into a monster that whispers doubts and lies into his mind when he least expects it. It’s become a voice that he depends on; a sick coping mechanism that does more harm than good.

He knows it’s his fault, though, is the thing—his members are some of the sweetest people he’s ever met. They don’t really have any ill intent. _He’s_ the source of what’s happening to him. He contorts the poison into a monster, lets it twist and curl and morph into the monster he’s so familiar with. And that’s why he has no anger towards anyone but himself.

Changbin has many, many emotions stored inside of him, just waiting to be freed. They only get glimpses of release in his lyrics, but they return to being dormant after he closes his notebook. His anger is the most predominant, and it only shows in his rapping.

He’s been told he has an aggressive flow and that he always seems angry. He doesn’t mean to be like that, but he gets so absorbed in the lyrics that he can’t help but to let himself go. He’s swept away by everything inside of him, and once he’s in the zone, he can’t get back out easily. It’s his only outlet, so he pours out his emotions like a volcano every time.

While his rapping seems ferocious, his songwriting is usually quite sad and dark. He writes for hours sometimes when he’s having a bad day, as that’s when he gets most of his inspiration. He lets the pen guide his hand along the page, words sprouting across the lines and forming rhymes and wordplay to create a song. Most of these, though—the ones he’s especially proud of—never get shown to anyone.

He hides himself away from everyone because he loathes everything about himself and he’s afraid that people will see what he sees. All the flaws, the pain, the scars—so ugly in his eyes and he wishes he could rip away everything he dislikes about himself, but then he realizes nothing would be left. That causes him to tear at himself even more, his nails digging into flesh as he wishes against God and everything he’s ever known to _please_ end his existence. He hates himself so much that it disgusts him to see his reflection and he can’t bare to review his own movements during monitoring. His shoulders and his arms have dark, faded scratches that no one has noticed; he’s taken to wearing long-sleeved clothing.

The toxic cycle of letting teasing fester, morphing it into self-doubt, letting the doubt consume him, and having his overall self-loathing increase gets to him. He’s handled it on his own for months but he’s breaking away at the seams and he’s scared he’ll explode. He knows everything will come to a head, but when?

The answer lies in Han Jisung.

 

Things have been hectic since their debut. They’ve already promoted for two more songs since _District 9_  and haven’t managed to get a break. Life surrounds practicing the choreography and training to better their voices and performances. Everyone is stressed, especially the ones who participate in making the songs.

Chan, Jisung, and Changbin are pressured to make more, more, more songs and if the original ones they present aren’t good enough, then they have to start from square one all over again. It’s frustrating, but it’s a reality they’ve come to accept. 

It’s hard to take care of themselves when they’re working so hard, but Chan and Jisung allow the other members to chastise them and convince them to sleep or drink more water—even if Chan did become more stubborn sometimes. Changbin, however, remains stagnant in his decision to finish whatever he starts. He ignores the worries of his bandmates and puts his work over his health. Though he’s gotten better, he’s still a bit too skinny for the others’ liking.

They don’t know that it’s partially because of his work ethic and mostly due to hating himself so much that he’s turned self-destructive; he’ll let them keep thinking it’s accidental whenever he skips meals or stays up for days. He’s well aware of how wrong it is.

He doesn’t ever plan on admitting it, either. Changbin plans on fixing it on his own and acting like it never happened, but he’s starting to feel like he’s stuck in a dark pit that he can’t get out of. The thoughts don’t ever stop and his music doesn’t seem to sound as good as it used to.

After months of struggling and crying himself to sleep, Changbin is tired. The exhaustion in his bones is unbearable; it’s like lead is embedded in his muscles and every movement is a lap around Korea. The circles under his eyes are like bruises, and the make-up noonas are close to giving up on him. He wouldn’t blame them, though—he’s already given up on himself, after all.

He expects Chan to be the one who approaches him seriously about his behavior, but instead it’s Jisung. On one of his worst days, when it’s just past eleven at night and Changbin’s lullaby is the roaring of his own head, Jisung comes into his room and closes the door behind him quietly. Changbin doesn’t even notice him at first, too preoccupied with trying to get his mind to shut up.

“Changbinnie hyung,” Jisung calls softly, gently, like he’s afraid to start the conversation. He calls again when Changbin doesn’t answer.

“What is it, Jisungie?” he asks as he forces himself to sit up. His arms ache but he ignores it in favor of paying attention to one of his closest friends. He loves Jisung very much—so much that it physically hurts sometimes. They’ve been close since forever, and they rely on each other a lot so that Chan can take care of the other members instead. Changbin has been distant, though, so he knows why Jisung is there; he just wants to stall as much as he can.

“Hyung,” Jisung says again, but it’s sadder. There’s a frown on his face and sympathy in his eyes and Changbin feels sick. “You’ve been really weird these past few months. Me and the others are worried about you, y’know?”

Changbin looks away, unable to stomach the thought of concerning his beloved bandmates. He feels disgusting, like he isn’t worth anything they’re giving him, any of the smiles or giggles or- or love, really. He doesn’t think he’s worthy of their love or their pure kindness. He believes he’s the bad egg of the group, the one black sheep in a crowd of perfect white ones. If only he were gone, then they’d be the perfect group with perfect talents and personalities.

“Hyung, why are you crying?” Jisung is panicked, eyes wide with worry as he reaches for Changbin, trying desperately to wipe away the tears but the older jerks away from the touch.

“Stop it, _stop it,_ leave me _alone_ ,” he cries out, his chest convulsing as the air suddenly can’t get through his lips. His airways are blocked, stuffed with cotton, and his trachea is torn, far too wracked by choked sobs as he struggles to breathe. God, why did he have to do this now, in front of his precious dongsaeng, his precious Jisung?

“Hyung, breathe, okay? _Breathe_.” Jisung doesn’t back away. He grasps Changbin’s hands in an iron grip, grounding him. He looks him in the eye and ignores how much Changbin resists.

“I-I can’t—” the other stutters, his own hands reciprocating the touch of Jisung and tightening as his panic grows. He squeezes his eyes shut, but that only makes it worse. He flashes them back open to try and get away from the shouts inside of his head.

_“Don’t be so weak!”_

_“You’re really this dumb to have a breakdown in front of Jisung, huh?”_

_“You’re completely pathetic.”_

_“Do you think Jisung would want you in the band when you’re acting like this?”_

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Changbin whispers, but he isn’t sure who he’s saying it to. He’s hiccuping now, and there are tears running down his cheeks as the voices don’t let up. His hands are shaking—his whole body is—as he clutches onto Jisung like he’s his lifeline.

“Hyung, hey, listen to me,” Jisung says softly, not letting go of Changbin’s hands. “You need to focus on my voice, okay? Just my voice. We’ll get through this. You and I will get through this. I’ll help you.”

Changbin nods shakily, his breathing still erratic and his chest still trembling with every small intake of air he manages to get. He moves closer to Jisung, trying to hide himself under his chin, finally taking advantage of his own small size.

“It’s been hard hasn’t it?” Jisung suddenly sings, almost hums, the notes rolling off his tongue smoothly as he whispers the lyrics into Changbin’s ear. “Short increments of sleep, fighting sleep, time must have passed a lot,” he continues. “It shows in your expression. Tiresome, you wrestle with the pen you hold. . .it seems you and I are very alike.”

Changbin’s breathing has slowed considerably, but the tears are still rolling slowly down his cheeks. His grasp has slackened a bit though he still trembles in Jisung’s hold. He sniffles slightly.

“It’s hard, right?” Jisung pauses to nuzzle into Changbin’s hair soothingly. “I know,” he murmurs, “it’s okay to cry. It’s not a bad thing.”

The shaking has ceased, and Changbin is quiet save for the occasional sniff. He’s caught by surprise when Jisung takes his face gently and sings the last line directly to his face.

“Well done for all these years being buried in worries.” He pecks Changbin’s nose with a sweet kiss, completely silencing the doubts in the other’s head. Changbin gives a small smile through watery eyes. “Hyung, tell me what’s wrong.”

Jisung sees his eyes darken, how haunted they become, how gaunt his face looks, how deep his eye circles are, and it makes him think, _how had they not seen this before?_

“Hyung, it’s okay,” Jisung murmurs gently when Changbin chooses not to answer his question. “You can trust me.”

There’s a pregnant pause—it’s like the entire room takes in a deep breath and holds it. It’s quiet, almost silent if not for the breaths of the two boys. Dark; it’s dark in the room but just light enough to cast shadows over each other’s faces. The planes of their faces are sharp in the moonlight that shines through the window, cheekbones piercing and lips precise. Their eyes reflect the light of the moon, but perhaps Changbin’s irises hold a shattered gibbous that has yet to become full.

“I want to die,” he says then, voice sure and apathetic as he breaks the quiet. He’s not shaking but he’s not quite still, either. Small tremors rock through his body even though it’s not cold in the room. He hugs himself a bit, hands sliding over his scarred shoulders—broken. He’s broken.

It takes Jisung a minute to fully register the words. His hyung—his talented, warm, confident hyung—wants to die. He doesn’t want to believe it, but Changbin himself just said it like it was nothing. He threw it out into the heavy air and now it sits innocently, like a tattered doll that a little boy had left behind.

Was it all a lie? Was the flexing and mischievous grins all precedented? Did Changbin really wish he wasn’t here—wasn’t with them?

“Hyung,” Jisung manages to say, but it’s like there’s a boulder stuck in his throat. He’s confused, sad, shattered, so how could he possibly sum that up in a few words? “You know I- _we_ love you, right?”

Changbin curls into himself a bit more. He doesn’t believe it, no, he doesn’t think he’s worthy of it. His skin is filled with noxious pores, all spilling with smoke that’s bad, bad, bad. He’s bad, he thinks, he’s awful in every sense of the word.

“Hyung, God, hyung,” Jisung says sadly. He reaches forward slowly to pet Changbin’s hair. The older flinches but doesn’t back away. He looks up through hooded eyes, and it hurts Jisung how sure of himself the other is. “I love you so much. You don’t understand just how in love with you I am. Everything you do mesmerizes me.”

“S-stop lying to me,” Changbin whispers as he looks away. His insides are buzzing at the confession, and he can feel a blush coloring his cheeks, but his mind keeps telling him that it isn’t the truth. “I- I don’t deserve it, anyway.”

“Baby, you deserve the whole world,” Jisung counters with a soft smile. They’re closer now, and Jisung’s hands have moved to hold Changbin’s own, efficiently stopping him from hugging himself pitifully. “You know I’d never lie to you. You’re my Changbin hyung who I love so much.”

There are many emotions bubbling in Changbin’s stomach and he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. His heart is pounding, reaching for Jisung and begging for it all to be true. But he holds himself back, too afraid of it all being fake. He doesn’t know what’s real anymore. Even if it is, then what? When will Jisung really see how broken Changbin is? 

“Talk to me, hyung,” Jisung pleads, his eyes searching Changbin’s own desperately. “Tell me what’s on your mind. You can trust me.” He grips Changbin’s hands tightly, intertwining their fingers to silently tell him not to be afraid.

“You- you’re. . .” Changbin tries to speak, but his throat tightens at just how many feelings are swirling around inside of him. He deeply inhales and Jisung squeezes his hand as a sign of comfort. “I’m scared you’ll see what I see, Jisung-ah.”

“And what do you see, hyung?”

There’s a pause, and Jisung can see the gears turning in the older’s head like clockwork. He bites his lip, blinking his eyes closed for a moment before he shakes his hand fervently like he’s combatting something evil inside him.

“I’m- I’m _bad_ , Jisung-ah,” he murmurs, looking at their clasped hands with something akin to wistfulness. “I’m awful and terrible and I- I don’t deserve a-anything good. . .” He breaks into stutters as his eyes water. He looks down but doesn’t stop. “I’m useless, completely useless! I can’t do anything r-right and I’m just a waste of space and I don’t deserve l-love or- or you or the others.”

Jisung is frozen, ice dripping into his bloodstream as he takes in the poison dripping from Changbin’s lips. It’s black, pitch black, and the light doesn’t reflect off of it—instead it gets sucked up, and the poison just keeps coming and doesn’t halt. There’s only evil and misery in that poison, the poison Changbin has so much of. It’s been festering inside of him, churning blacker and blacker before it explodes out of him like this; waterfalls of everlasting toxin that has finally been revealed after months of hiding.

The breaking of Jisung’s heart can almost be heard; the cracking and rattling inside his ribcage is surely his heart, tearing in two as he witnesses the boy he loves most completely shatter into broken pieces like a mirror thrown to the wall.

“Ch-Changbin, hyung, no, no, no, that’s not true,” Jisung whispers hurriedly, tears filling his own eyes as he takes his hands away from the two’s hold to wrap around the older. He brings him into his chest, his arms circling his small frame to ensure he feels protected. Jisung lets one hand card through Changbin’s hair to calm him. “Please, hyung, baby, that’s not true at all. It’s not. Those are all lies.”

Changbin doesn’t say anything as he’s too busy choking on the poison falling from his mouth. He’s a whimpering mess, all tears and sobs and limp limbs. He weakly grabs onto Jisung, his fingers grasping onto the younger and trying to ground himself. He lets himself be coddled as he cries, his tears hot as they flow from his eyes and drip into Jisung’s shirt. He breathes in the other’s scent and slowly, his mind begins to clear. There are still a few tears that drip sluggishly, but he’s calmer and more lax.

“Hyung, are you with me?” Jisung asks softly.

Too tired to answer, Changbin just nods from within his confines of Jisung’s arms.

“Okay, good.” The younger shifts until they’re both lying on the bed facing each other. Jisung has Changbin’s face in his hands as he wipes his tears. “I need you to listen to me very closely, hyung,” he says seriously, prompting Changbin to look at him. “I want you to know that you’re an amazing hyung and a very talented musician. You’re so important to our team and to our fans, okay?” Changbin hesitantly nods, though he’s not accustomed to the kind words. “You are one of the people who deserves love the most. You deserve everything good in the world because I know how nice you are. You’re so warm even if you don’t act like it sometimes. You’re sweet and you think of others and that’s really admirable. I want you to know that I love you and so do many other people.”

At that point, the tears have returned to Changbin’s eyes. He could hear sincerity in those words, and every time would Jisung continue, he’d suck in a breath and listen intently before he’d feel his heart warm. For once, the monster inside him is quiet, and he could believe what Jisung was saying, even if just a little bit. It’s progress.

He murmurs something, but Jisung doesn’t catch it. When asked again, he whispers, “I love you, too.”

Jisung giggles a little, his eyes turning into crescents as his bunny teeth show through his lips. Changbin almost chokes on air, but this time it’s because of how beautiful the younger looks. Quietly, he leans forward to peck the edge of the other’s lips. It’s a silent thank you, a silent gesture that means so much more.

The monster’s still lurking, but it’s quiet for now. Even though it will come back to bite and to hiss, Changbin will learn to dismiss its words as untrue; he’ll have Jisung and the other members by his side when it fights back and it roars because he has a family that will protect him and teach him what’s real and fake. This is just another hurdle he must jump over. The weight in his chest will slowly let up over time, and Changbin will see that maybe he could be as great as Jisung says he is. Practice, practice, practice—the key to life it seems. He’ll practice to love himself like he practices his rap verses. And one day, he’ll truly see himself as the bin-sual he really is.

**Author's Note:**

> _Based off my own emotions and feelings, I hope to find a family that will teach me that the monster inside me is only an illusion I’ve created. The poison my mind makes is nothing but lies and deception. One day, I will learn to see myself as the bin-sual I am, too. I hope you, the reader, will also find confidence in those around you. You’re beautiful in every sense of the word, from your hair to your toes and everything in between. Thank you for staying alive today. You’re doing well._
> 
>  
> 
> _Thank you for reading._


End file.
